Permits For Weapons
by Lairelosse
Summary: Peter and Neal come across Michael, Fiona, and a car that is full of weapons. Does Fiona have a permit for all those firearms? One-shot.


_A/N__: Now, for a moment, let us imagine that Anson does not exist and is not troubling Michael in the Burn Notice universe. As for White Collar, forget the fact that Matthew Keller has kidnapped Elizabeth. Everything smells of roses and is not half as complicated as the mid-season finales for both shows! This fic is based on the Burn Notice/White Collar advertisement called "What Grenade?" As per usual, nothing belongs to me. This story is dedicated to my nutty friends purplephantasms and Flappie Dungeon. _

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><p><strong>Permits for Weapons<strong>

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><p>"Fiona!" called Michael, as he jogged up the stairs that led to the loft. "Are you ready yet?"<p>

"Almost done," Fiona said as she struggled to zip her overflowing suitcase. "Ugh, it won't close, Michael."

"Let me try." Michael walked over to the bed to assist her. "What on earth do you have in here, Fi? We're not going to New York for a month! We'll only be gone for three days."

"Everything in there is absolutely necessary, Michael."

"How many guns do you have in there?"

"Three."

Michael glared at her.

"Okay, fine, seven!" Then she added, "And a little bit of C4."

"How are you going to get all of that past airport security?" demanded Michael.

"I have my ways and means," said Fiona coyly. Then she reached into the suitcase, took out a bottle of nail polish, and started applying the polish onto her toenails.

Michael stared at her.

"What? There's nothing else I can do, is there?" queried Fiona innocently.

"Fine." Michael turned back to the suitcase and concentrated on his efforts to close it. As soon as he managed to shut the suitcase, Fiona bounced up from the bed, pecked him on the cheek and waltzed out the door.

"Thanks for helping, Michael!"

"You're welcome," he grunted as he tried to lift the suitcase. "Oof!" He exclaimed as the suitcase slipped from his grasp and landed on his toe. With many groans and muffled curses, he carried the suitcase down to the car where Fiona was already waiting.

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><p>Michael closed his eyes and tried to get some rest before they landed in New York. After what seemed like five minutes, someone kicked him and he woke up immediately.<p>

"We're here!" said Fiona jubilantly.

"Already?" Michael rubbed his eyes and stared out the window at the stunning New York skyline.

"I can't wait to go shopping, Michael! How much money did you bring?"

"Fiona, we're here on a job, not pleasure."

"Oh well, if we can finish the job quickly, then there will be time for pleasure. What are we supposed to do again?"

"We have to kidnap the curator of an art museum and get him to Pearce."

"The curator of an art museum? Then this job should only take an hour, at the most."

"Well," Michael revealed hesitantly, "it isn't that easy. He has a team of bodyguards that is on duty at all times, so we have to figure out which is the best time to grab him."

"Is he a curator or a drug kingpin?"

"He's many things," Michael responded as the plane landed.

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><p>"So you don't believe me?" Neal questioned Peter.<p>

"You haven't exactly been the most trustworthy person in the world, Neal."

"I'm telling you the truth: I didn't steal that Monet. I didn't."

"But have you ever thought about stealing it?" Peter inquired in an interrogative manner.

"I admit that the thought has crossed my mind, yeah, but if I stole everything that I wanted to steal, I wouldn't be here today. But you obviously don't believe me, even after all this while, so I guess there's no use trying to convince you that I didn't steal the Monet." Neal started walking at a faster pace, and Peter had to jog a little to keep up.

"Neal," said Peter, grabbing Neal's arm. Neal shook Peter's hand off and refused to reply. He evidently felt offended because Peter did not believe him even when he was telling the truth for a change. Neal kept walking faster and faster as they made their way down the crowded street back to the office.

"Let's take a shortcut," Peter suggested. "It's through this alley."

Neal followed Peter, and they continued walking on in silence.

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><p>"You picked the right spot, Fi," said Michael approvingly. The alley that she had chosen was within walking distance from the art museum and was wide enough so that they could make a quick getaway as soon as they had separated the curator from his bodyguards.<p>

"I know." Fiona popped open the trunk and surveyed the wide variety of weapons inside. "Which one do you think I should use, Michael?"

"Fiona! We don't need that many guns. We just want to kidnap the guy, not start World War III! Besides, how many guns can you use at a time?"

"You'd be surprised." Fiona grinned at him.

At that moment, Neal Caffrey and Peter Burke walked into the alley. Fiona quickly shut the trunk of their rental car, but she was not nearly fast enough. Peter had already spotted the highly suspicious contents of the trunk.

"Are those firearms in your trunk?" demanded Peter in his best strict-FBI-agent manner.

"What firearms?" Fiona widened her eyes innocently.

"The ones in your trunk."

"There are no firearms in our trunk," chipped in Michael. "What you saw were just some harmless power tools. We're going to renovate our house, so we needed some equipment."

"Then you won't mind me taking a look inside, will you?"

"Actually… We would mind, very much."

"Why?"

"Because…" Fiona looked at Michael for ideas, but his face was completely blank.

"Please open the trunk."

Fiona sighed and then acquiesced, albeit reluctantly.

Neal and Peter's eyes widened as they stared at the vast array of weapons before their eyes. Neal took two steps back. He had never been a big fan of guns.

Peter's gaze was riveted on the weapons. Without taking his eyes off them, he asked, "What do you mean to do with all of these 'power tools'?"

Michael and Fiona were caught. "We mean to dispose of them," Michael replied untruthfully.

"Do you have a permit for all these 'tools'?"

"Look, why don't we just forget all about this and pretend that all of this never happened?" Fiona smiled her most charming smile at Peter as she shut the trunk.

Peter remained uncharmed. He walked over to the front of the car. Michael and Fiona traded a quick oh-no glance. As Peter surveyed the car, he saw explosives lying on the backseat. "Is that C4?"

"What C4?" queried Fiona as Michael buried his head in his hands.

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><p><em>And there you have it! My first crossover fanfic. I would love it if Burn Notice and White Collar really made a crossover episode, because it would be amazing. By the way, I did not really edit this story, so if you come across mistakes (which you will), please point them out. It's late and I'm sleepy, you see. Thank you.<em>


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